


Something to Think About

by Linorien



Series: Twin Tales [14]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Camelot Remix Eligable, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: Lancelot stumbles into a cave looking for shelter from a blizzard. He didn't realise he would make a lifelong friend.Can be read independantly of series.
Relationships: Percival & Lancelot
Series: Twin Tales [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1228421
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Something to Think About

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Snowed in. Also inspired by a conversation about how its rare for the pov character and the protagonist to be different people.

Lancelot stumbled through the snow, leaning forward against the howling wind. It had come out of nowhere, or perhaps he hadn’t been paying attention. It always was harder to read the weather when he was in a forest. Certainly its harder to see the storm approaching on the horizon. 

He knew there were caves up ahead, caves which would provide shelter from the blizzard, he only needed to find them. Hopefully he hadn’t gotten turned around.

There! He saw a flicker of firelight through the snow and hurried toward it. It looked about where he thought the caves should be too, so hopefully there was both fire and warmth. 

Lancelot stumbled into the cave and immediately the wind abated. He caught his breath as he took in the sight before him. There was a small fire and sat beside it was an enormous man. His arms were thick with muscles only barely obscured by the tight sleeves of his jerkin. Lancelot was shocked that he didn’t have any warmer clothes, yet he seemed not to be cold. 

“Do you mind if I share your fire?” he asked. 

After a moment, the stranger grunted, “Sure.”

“Thank you so much.” Lancelot walked to the fire and sat down as close as he could without catching fire himself. “Storm came out of nowhere. Thought I had time to make it to the caves before nightfall, but evidently I should’ve been here sooner.” He held his hands out to warm them, not even bothering to take his gloves off yet. “Thank the spirits that I saw your fire.”

“Don’t think the spirits had anything to do with it,” the stranger muttered. 

Lancelot shrugged. He wasn’t one to questions someone’s beliefs. “I’m Lancelot. What may I call you?”

The stranger stared at Lancelot again, his eyes seemed suspicious, but just when Lancelot was going to back down, he answered. “Percival.”

“Percival. Nice to meet you Percival. And thank you again for letting me share you fire,” Lancelot said. “I don’t have much, but I have some dried meat to share in exchange.”

Percival shook his head. “I already ate.”

“Oh. Right. Well then I’ll just eat. Let me know if you change you mind.”

Lancelot ate in silence, covertly studying the other man. Lancelot would never claim to be great at reading people, but it was clear that this man had lost someone recently. He stared vacantly into the fire and sometimes he would glance to the side like he expected someone to be there. And every time a flash of sadness crossed his features.

“So are you a merchant, or...?” Lancelot asked when he finished his small dinner. “It’s unusual to see another traveller in the foothills this late in the season.” He hoped maybe he could strike up a conversation with the other man, perhaps even take his mind off whatever the trauma was. 

“Traveller,” was the only response he got though. 

He tried again. “So which way are you headed? I’m headed back south. Hoping to meet with old friends in Corvon.”

He didn’t get any reply this time. In fact, he only looked more despondent. “It’s, um, fine if you don’t want to say. We don’t know each other after all. I was only hoping for some friendly conversation to pass the time.” He glanced back toward the cave entrance. “Especially as I think we’ll be each other’s company for a while.”

Percival looked too, then grunted. He stood and retrieved another log to add to the fire. He had to stoop his head to not hit the roof of the cave. And as he sat back down instead of retreating further into the cave, Lancelot took that to mean he was willing to try some conversation, too.

“I can start. I’m a traveller myself. Hoping to be a knight, though, someday.” Even if he was beginning to have serious doubts. “I’m really handy with a sword, just no one seems to want a knight with a farming background.”

Again, there was very little response. Lancelot kept talking and leaving openings for questions with very little response. The most response he got was when they agreed to take shifts sleeping so that the fire wouldn’t go out. Lancelot offered to take the first shift and Percival immediately went to sleep. 

The next day, although neither were sure when exactly it began, Percival was a little more open. He offered up the information that he, too, was from a village, although his was near a trading route and was almost wealthy compared to Lancelot’s farming village. 

“I always thought I might end up a merchant,” he’d said. 

“Really? What would you sell?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it much.” He paused. “I used to do small carvings, but I don’t think anyone would buy them. They were not good.”

“There’s still time to improve. And maybe you could find someone to teach you.” That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. His expression closed off immediately and he looked away from Lancelot, saying nothing. 

“Or, or maybe you could try something new,” Lancelot hurried to say. He much preferred Percival when he contributed at least a little to the conversation. “You look strong, have you considered becoming a carpenter? Blacksmith even?”

Percival looked up again. “I am good with repairs.”

“There you go, maybe you just need to find a city to settle in. There’s always repairs to be done in a city.”

Conversation continued like this for the next two days. Lancelot did most of the talking, with Percival sometimes joining in. There were quiet moments too. Even Lancelot ran out of things to talk about when the conversation was predominantly one sided. And he started to get an idea of what subjects to avoid: family, his village, relationships, and why he was travelling. There weren’t many topics left. Even magic was out of the question, though Lancelot couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t seem frightened of it like some in the northern kingdoms, but rather saddened by it. 

When the storm at last abated, and they repacked their belongings, Percival surprised Lancelot by speaking first. “I’m glad you were here with me,” he said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Lancelot smiled. He had no idea what the other man might be thinking about, but he was glad their time together had some impact. “And I’m glad you were here to keep me warm.”

They parted ways amicably and neither expected to see each other again, except they did. Lancelot found Percival later hot on the trail of the mercenaries who burned down his village and murdered his family. They talked a lot more that night and Lancelot convinced Percival to travel with him instead. 

It still took time for them to become friends, but Percival knew that if he had never met Lancelot that night, his life would have ended long ago.


End file.
